


Days Gone Bye

by VulgarSequins



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Animal Death, F/F, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Gore, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulgarSequins/pseuds/VulgarSequins
Summary: When Rachel woke up from her coma, she soon realized the world had gone to shit and had to learn things were different now. Very different.(This is a Walking Dead gender swapped (female) Rickyl story. Tags added as story progresses.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Lecherousportmanteau for even giving the idea of gender swap/bent/reversed walking dead world. If you haven't seen the artwork she's been gifting the Internet with, well hell. 
> 
> I wanted to write it since I saw Rachel Grimes. I even cosplayed her at NYCC. This will be touch and go based on her art, some things having changed no doubt from what her and MermaidSheenaz have concocted. This is a Rickyl/Darchel story, but it comes later. Also trying my hand at writing female slash. I really started loving this idea and writing the ZA in a woman's eyes.
> 
> Let me know what you think and bother me on tumblr 
> 
> Vulgarsequins@tumblr

_Lawrence is going to be so pissed._

Pain rocketed through the shoulder, chest, back, and stomach. Landing on the ground was just as jarring to the bones. Trying to get air in the lungs was difficult and proving to be almost impossible. 

_Christ, Carla is going to be so upset I’m not there to cook for her tonight…_

Buttons flew off as clothes were ripped open. Intense pressure applied to the entrance wound made things harder to focus on aside from searing pain. Vision was starting to blur and darken around the edges. Someone’s talking, but it’s muffled. He’s got dark hair. 

  _Shane?_

**“ _Stay with me, Sis… Don’t you… Rac-“_**

Everything goes black.

* * *

 

Crystal blue eyes fluttered awake and met with the dull view of ceiling tiles that were in dire need of cleaning or just complete replacing. Breathing seemed an easier task this time around but the air filling lungs was stale and humid. The room was warm and the sun was filtered through closed blinds to create a soft, clean light.

Rachel glanced to her right, spotting a vase with flowers long wilted and dead. With hands shaking, her fingertips graced what petals remained and she watched as they crumpled and fell by the mere touch of her fingernails. 

_Hospital. I’m in a hospital._

Brief flashes of being shot helped reorient her with the reasoning behind her surroundings. Looking back at the medical equipment to her right, she noted that it was either shut off or unplugged; the iconic vital beeping of life not filling the room like she had remembered years ago when she gave birth to Carla. Rachel attempted to call for a nurse, anyone really, but no one responded to her hoarse replies; her throat felt like sand had filled it. While ripping off the various sensors and IV equipment, she took note of the medical band strapped around her wrist. 

“Rachel Grimes. A+”

_At least I know my name and blood type, whatever help that is._

Moving out of the bed proved difficult and she made a quick acquaintanceship with the tile, grateful it was her chest and not her face making contact, though the pain that shot through her ribs disagreed. She struggled to stand, but with the help of the IV pole, Rachel managed to get vertical. Her thin paper gown slipped open and only then did she notice the bandages that were wrapped tight around her left side, almost hidden from her vision by her full breast. 

_Must have been where I was shot…_

Looking around and finding another gown, she slipped it on to cover her exposed front half before attempting to make her way out of the room. Something blocked her doorway but after a hefty shove, she was able to escape the silent room. Her senses immediately were giving warning flags with the imagery that she was met with in her short exploration of the hospital. 

Dead bodies and carnage filled the hallways. Doctors, nurses, and patients alike littered everywhere Rachel turned. To add to the unsettling horror, the entire building seemed to be quiet and she could make out a multitude of bullet holes in the walls. It soon became obvious that there was no one alive aside from Rachel in the building. 

She padded her way to the end of one large hallway. There was a set of double doors chained and locked together; writing haphazardly sprayed across it reading “DON’T OPEN DEAD INSIDE”. Rachel had to roll her eyes at herself after her initial confusion of reading it wrong. 

“Don’t Dead Open Inside? Come on, Rachel.”

A sudden crash on the other side of the door almost caused Rachel to fall backwards. Furrowing her brow and peaking between the crack of the doors, she tried looking to see what caused the noise that startled her so suddenly. She could feel her heart start to race, wondering if that was healthy considering she appeared to have woken from a coma not even a hour ago. 

She bit back the natural reaction to scream when fingers jutted out from the opening. Groans started filtering through and Rachel knew she had to leave. Fight or flight instincts taking over faster than she could make out what she was truly seeing. The hands pushing through reminded her of the dead bodies she would sometimes see on the rare occasion she was called to a homicide scene of a long dead victim. Decay seemed to have set in and the flesh was ash colored. If she wasn’t mistaken, the distinct clacking noise of teeth joined the groaning. 

Thankfully her legs caught up with the rest of her body, supporting her weight as she stumbled to jog down the hallway opposite of the doors; trying to dodge the bodies torn apart that were creating obstacles in her path. When she made it to the exit stairwell, Rachel flung the doors open and was thrown into darkness when they shut behind her. After carefully feeling for every step and turn, letting her breathing calm and heart rest, she safely made it down to the bottom floor. She sent a silent prayer up to God, thankful that the doors weren’t chained shut from the outside like the double doors had been up in the wing she jad rested in; unaware of the danger down the hall that waited.  

The air in Rachel’s lungs seized up when she stepped out onto the pavement of the hospital. All around her were rows and rows upon covered bodies. The bitter sweet, cloying stench of death filled her nostrils and her empty stomach wretched violently.

_What in the fuck is goin' on?_

* * *

 

Rachel managed to find a bike after running from the hospital. It was chilling to see that the roads were completely empty. The entire time Rachel had lived in this town, she had never seen anything like this. There were no clues as to what had happened to the town, but she prayed that she would soon have a clue. This had to be a nightmare. Nothing was making sense. 

Before discovering the bike, Rachel stumbled upon something that reminded her of a horror movie she watched last halloween; the difference being that this was too real to be crafted by special effects make up and prosthetics. She was still trying to make sense of it.

_That thing… That woman… She was torn in half but still moving. Not even a whole person._

It was the first thing that was human like to greet Rachel in this world, and she didn’t particularly care for it. 

Later when Rachel would look back on this moment, she would wonder how in the hell she even managed to bike across town to her neighborhood. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was panic, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to see her daughter and husband that pushed her body past its limits. She could rest later. She could rest when she knew Carla and Lawerence were okay. Between panting breaths and readjusting on the uncomfortable seat, she kept whispering prayers to a God that she didn’t know she fully believed in anymore. This was Hell, and until she knew her family was safe, it would remain that way.

* * *

 

Empty.

The house was fucking empty. 

No sign of Lawrence or Carla. No trace of her little girl. 

Rachel’s throat felt like it was bleeding when her screams finally gave out and she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

* * *

 

Hopefully the shovel that made impact with her face killed her or put her in another damn coma so she could forget everything; forget this world, forget the loss of her husband, of her daughter… Or maybe the dark woman pointing a gun to her face would make good on her word and shoot her like she just did the man in the suit moments ago.

* * *

 

Of course, asking for death in this hell seemed too much of a favor to ask. 

Rachel groaned and lulled her head to the side, finding that her wrists were bound. Her lip curled in anger, but before she could start struggling, a child appeared before her. 

“Momma! Momma, she’s waking!”

Her body went slack when her eyes met those of the young girl that would be the same age as Carla, maybe a year or two older. In a blink, a woman that appeared to be the child’s mother appeared at her side. It was the same dark woman and girl with the shovel and gun. After some of the oddest questioning Rachel had experienced and the clearance of some test to prove something she was still having a difficult time grasping, the woman, Morgana, let her lose. However, not until after she was clear with her threats to Rachel about not trying anything stupid. She was left in the room alone to gather her wits.

After pulling on a clean shirt she found in one of the dressers, Rachel looked around the home that once belonged to some neighbors that she had only managed to visit with a handful of times; Fred and Cindy Drake if she remembers correctly. Rachel cursed herself for letting her crushing devastation cloud her brain in the wake of not finding Lawerence and Carla in the Grimes’ home. What she wouldn’t do to have a one of her bras right about now. There was no way in hell she would fit the small cup sizes Cindy sported, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to run anytime soon. She made a note to try and head back home some time tomorrow to get a change of her own clothing, and maybe find a clue about Lawrence and Carla’s whereabouts. She found a pair of Fred's boxers and slipped them on over her underwear she had on when she woke from her coma.

_They could still be safe. You don’t know for sure that they are de- No._

Morgana and her daughter, Diane, had quite the hidden camp set up in the lower level of the home. Making her way around the living room with a blanket clutched tight around her shoulders, Rachel tried taking in everything she could about the room, in case she needed to recall something useful later. While Morgana set up their meal, Rachel questioned her about what had happened; keeping her stance firm but neutral as the darker woman kept a sharp eye on her, no doubt still keeping her guard up with Diane close by. Rachel was a stranger she met hours ago that was running around the street in a hospital gown, panties, and a wound to her side.

_Dead people not stayin' dead… Bites cause death, and then that? Walkers? That what I saw in the hospital? Fever? Sickness? Jesus, what in the hell happened while I was in a coma?_

The thrown together meal was informative, if not unsettling. Morgana filled Rachel in with what she knew about these “walkers” while Rachel was more focused on devouring the chili concoction and trying to understand what Morgana was telling her. Her stomach had firmly reminded her that she had in fact been in a coma for Christ knows how long, and that she needed to replenish her body’s fuel source. 

After the meal, the three of them settled in the dark living area. Rachel’s heart couldn’t help but mourn and break quietly in jealousy at Morgana and Diane. Watching the two interact, it made her miss Carla and want nothing more than to have her own daughter safe in her arms. Rachel was thankful that when Morgana asked about Carla, apparently having said her daughter’s name after Diane got a good hit with a shovel to her head, she made no false claims or fill Rachel with unassured hopes that her family was out there somewhere safe. Rachel’s mind kept throwing disturbing images of the hospital she woke in as a reminder that you couldn’t trust safe havens in this new world and that it would do her good to remember that.

Rachel couldn’t help but notice Morgana’s body relax slightly when Rachel told the fellow mother that she was in fact a Sheriff’s Deputy, not a bank robber like Diane was betting on her being. The two of them must have been wanting to ask the whole night as to why Rachel was sporting a gun shot wound to her side.

The blaring horn of a car alarm shook everyone back into the present. Rachel was quick to rush up to the window while Morgana instructed Diane to dim the lantern that was lit. Both of the older women peaked out of the curtains, looking to see what had caused the alarm to go off. The dead were surrounding a car that one seemed to have bumped in to, starting a chain reaction. It was annoying, just as a car alarm was in the world before this, but it was a slight relief to know that the attention of the walking dead was drawn away from the house.

Except for a man that seemed to be infatuated with the house the three of them currently were hiding in, all looking out the window. Rachel glanced back to watch Diane throw herself into the bedding by the far wall, sobbing loudly after announcing that the man was coming. Morgana rushed to Diane to not only comfort her daughter but to try and silence her, going as far as to cover her head with a pillow and rock her. 

That’s when Rachel realized that maybe the two survivors she was taking shelter with, hadn’t walked away completely unscathed.

* * *

 The gunshot wound would prove to be a bigger set back than Rachel had initially realized. She needed more than a few moments to compose herself after smashing the skull of a walker in when they exited the safe house early that morning. Diane looked worried and sympathetic towards her while Morgana had a slight smirk to her lips. Rachel knew then that there was no point trying to impress this woman.

Rachel hurried back in to her home, not as if it mattered. It wasn’t like Lawrence or Carla had magically come back over night, but the hope that was diminishing in her heart didn’t seem to want to be completely doused. 

She made her way to her bedroom, quickly tugging her too tight shirt off and tossing it aside. One work out shirt, proper fitting jeans, and sports bra later, and she was making her way to the kitchen Morgana and Diane were left sitting in; Morgana already having gone through the cabinets. No doubt looking for some more meals for them later.

“Any luck?”

“Nah,” Morgana was kneeling and picking up some papers off the tile. “Place is pretty clean. Mess of papers though. Someone ripped this drawer right out- Hey!”

Rachel couldn’t get there fast enough, almost tearing the papers from Morgana’s hand. Her bright blue eyes flipping through warranties, insurance cards, and last year's tax return they kept in the document dump drawer.

“They’re gone…” Rachel started rummaging through the remains of the drawer that was sitting on top of the counter as opposed to nestled on the tracks it belonged inside of the kitchen island. 

“What’s gone?”

“Carla’s shot records. Our passports,” Rachel looked at Morgana, a wide, if not slightly deranged smile spreading across her lips. “Even our birth certificates! They’re alive!”

“Anyone could have-“

“Why would anyone take those? They hold no value. They would steal our food and TV for fuck’s sake, but not those!” 

Morgana ignored Rachel’s curse in front of Diane as she started sitting on one of the breakfast bar chairs, an odd, choked laugh leaving her lips.

“Passports and birth certificates…My husband- same thing,” Morgana rubbed her eyes. “There I am, grabbing photo albums and he’s packing up survival gear and shot re-“

Morgana stopped suddenly, looking away from Rachel as tears filled her eyes. The room was quiet until Diane spoke up.

“They’re probably in Atlanta, I bet”

Morgana agreed and told Rachel about the refugee center. The CDC being located there as well, possibly with vaccinations or some answers. It was as good a start as any. Maybe Lawrence and Carla were there. If they were providing food and shelter from this Hell, then Lawerence would think to get their daughter there safe.

Then Rachel had an idea.

* * *

 

Rachel would never take for granted hot water again. 

The scalding water seeped into her fatigued and healing muscles, helping work some knots and loosen tension. She was thankful for the shampoo she had left in her locker and nearly cried when she remembered she had just a tiny bit of conditioner left in the travel bottle tucked behind it. 

It was absolutely second nature for her to grab her razor and lift her arm. She still didn’t know how long she had been in a coma, but judging by the hair growth her armpit and legs were sporting, it had been over a week. Rachel could her Morgana’s faint chuckles over the sound of Diane singing, but she chose to ignore asking what was so funny. She had been shaving since she was 14, she wasn't going to stop now.

While Diane ran off to change, Morgana explained a little more about the mayhem that followed the initial… outbreak? Chaos? She left out the details about losing her own husband, but Rachel could fill in the blanks of that matter. Until she found Lawrence's body, she still held hope. Morgana didn’t have that luxury. Rachel knew that’s what kept the mother and daughter duo frozen in her neighborhood, and she couldn’t blame them for not wanting to travel to Atlanta.

The firearm storage room had been picked through, but there was enough to arm Rachel, Morgana, and even Diane. It was second nature for Rachel to give Diane the safety talk about the guns, and wearing her police uniform didn’t help break that habit. 

The women loaded up a few duffles with varies guns and bullets. Rachel grabbed her deputy hat after stying her hair in a bun and placed it on her head before leading her new friends out of the building. This is where they would split. Diane left to take their duffles to their own car, while Rachel loaded up the police cruiser that belonged to her and Shane. Rachel was slightly surprised that it was still there, thinking Shane would have taken it; the other man never passing up an opportunity to let others know he was on the force. She tried one more time to convince Morgana to come with her, but the woman held firm. However, she did promise that once Diane knew how to shoot properly, she would follow Rachel’s path and meet up with her. 

Morgana gave Rachel a bit more information on how the walkers worked. Rachel in turn, went over how she would check the walkie every day at dawn for them. Hesitation filled Rachel’s belly. She wanted nothing more but to bring Morgana and Diane with her. It was safer in numbers. Regardless, she had to go on the faith that she would see her two rescuers in the future.

Before they split, a walker made itself known behind the chainlink fence. 

Morgana held Diane and started backing up, more cautious than Rachel was.

“Leon Basset? I didn’t think much of him. Careless and dumb, but,” Rachel sighed and started walking to the fence. “I can’t leave him like this.”

“You know they’ll hear the shot.” Morgana watched Rachel closely, already pushing Diane to their vehicle.

“Let’s not be here when they show up.”

* * *

 

It was dumb, reckless even, but the thought of that thing- no,woman- dragging her half body across Kings county forever would have ate away at Rachel’s conscious. 

* * *

 

Rachel managed a decent amount of miles out of their town before the car died. A irritating lesson to learn that only took once: check the gas tank before choosing the car. 

She managed to get a radio call out before coming to a stop. It was a slim chance, but maybe someone had a set up and could catch her signal. Just because broadcasts ended, didn’t necessarily mean that the radio signal was down. Rachel sat in the cruiser for a few moments, not knowing what sort of hell was waiting once she left the safety of the fiberglass around her. 

Rachel had a half smile on her face when she took the family photo out of her visor before leaving her cruiser, thinking of Morgana grabbing photo albums. 

* * *

 

Shooting that little girl, walker or not, in the head was going to haunt her dreams for months. 

* * *

 

The sight that waited for her in the picture perfect farm house was something Rachel knew she would need to get used to. Her years on the force have conditioned her to become detached to this sort of thing, but… In the back of her mind, she knew it would just get worse. The scenes would be more gruesome. The smell that was currently causing her to gag would be more powerful. 

Rachel was apprehensive about going through the couple’s truck, but that’s something Morgana showed her. The dead were dead, hopefully dead-dead, and didn’t need survival gear like food and fuel. The living needed to continue to breathe, and so scavenging was the new name of the game. Rachel was starting to feel dejected when she came up empty handed looking for the keys, but once more her luck pulled through for her in the form of a horse.

If the current owners of said horse weren’t rotting in the home to her right, she would have kissed them both silly for having a saddle fitted for the animal. 

No way in Hell was she riding that horse without a saddle.

* * *

 

Awe seemed like a word that fell short on describing the emotion Rachel was feeling. The sight of highway out of Atlanta jam packed with cars and buses alike was troubling in that there were absolutely no cars in Rachel’s path trying to get **in** to Atlanta. Rachel still had no idea how long she was in a coma, but seeing the vehicles covered in dirt and grime, elevated her confusion on her blank timeline. 

* * *

 

It was absolutely bizarre and unsettling to see the streets of Atlanta lifeless. Rachel and her horse, whom she named Cocoa since that’s what Carla said she would name her horse if Lawrence and Rachel ever got her one, continued strolling through the maze of concrete. It was more of the same; cars wrecked, windows broken. 

Cocoa startled once they passed a burned bus that harbored a few walkers. The dead stragglers climbed out of their urban tomb and started to amble after them. Rachel cooed and tried settling the beast down, but also encouraged it to move a little faster. All they had to do was make sure they were able to outrun them. It would be okay. 

_Christ, is that a tank?_

Rachel stopped before the line of military vehicles; her wide blue eyes soaking up the calamity that had taken place in the city. Military was called, but it had done no good if the dead solider being picked at by a raven was anything to go by. Dread started filling her bones as the hope she was tried to keep alive weakened further. 

The sound of a helicopter over head snatched up Rachel’s attention, all focus turning to the sky to try and find the airborne transporter. She finally found a reflection of the chopper thanks to the building in front of her. She kicked at the Cocoa’s sides, optimistic in the sudden hint of others alive and looking for survivors. 

An impulsive left turn down a one way street extinguished that hope and filled Rachel with a fear that left her breathless. 

Walkers. There had to be at the very least three hundred of them.

Cocoa bucked upwards and it took all of Rachel’s reflex to hold on to the reigns so she could stay upright. She cursed and directed the horse back down the street they came from. How she managed to keep her damn stetson hat on when the horse bolted, she will never know. 

Sky blue eyes clouded with terror kept glancing back at the walkers chasing them. They would have to find another route, maybe leave the city and come back around a different way. 

“Oh shit!” 

_How in the Hell- How are they here?! Where did they even come from-_

Before Rachel could complete her thought or devise another escape route, walkers had surrounded her and the panicking horse. Cocoa kept bucking and whinnying, throwing Rachel off her back when the walkers managed to tip the massive creature over. 

Rachel watched in horror as the horse was torn in to. Her brain managed to rocket off synapses again, reminding her of the immediate danger closing in. There was no shelter. There was no way getting out of this. 

The tank.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” 

Rachel crawled as best she could under the hulking metal machine, kicking at walkers that grabbled for her legs and feet. The asphalt bit at her palms and there was no doubt that if Rachel made it through this alive, her knees, hips and even breasts were going to be severely bruised because of the hasty scrambling from the clicking jaws of death. 

“Oh God. Oh God.”

The tank was surrounded. Walkers started crawling in from both the front and back of the tank, reaching for her. In a last ditch effort to prolong the inevitable painful demise, Rachel whipped her Python out and took aim; shooting at whatever walker managed to get close enough to grab clothing. 

5 shots. 

She got 5 shots off, all of them making their target. The bodies she managed the take out created a weak blockade from the other walkers that started to crawl over their dead companions, wanting nothing but to reach Rachel and rip her apart like they had Cocoa. 

1 shot left.

There was no way she was getting out of this. She was fucked. She should have stayed with Morgana and Diane. She should have paid better attention. However, like Hell she was going to let these things take her on their terms. The barrel of her Colt was still hot when she put it against her temple. 

“Lawerence, Carla, I’m sorry-“

The fucking luck Rachel Grimes had. 

She almost choked on the gasp of air that filled her lungs when she bolted up into the bottom of the tank. She barely made it into the metal tomb, walkers grabbing her pant leg, before she slammed the hatch closed.

Rachel’s panting echoed off the steel walls as she shuffled backwards to the closest wall. Her heart was racing and she felt light headed. There was no doubt that her stitches were ripped open. 

“Oh….God.” The dead solider beside her startled her for a half second before she glanced away, the colt still gripped tight in her right hand. She could breath. She got away. Rachel looked back to the dead man beside her and spotted his gun. Her hand was shaking so bad that it took a bit of struggle and wiggling to get the gun out of the holster. 

Just as she settled back against the wall, familiar growling roared to life to her right. The dead solider that was sleeping was now very much awake and looking at her. A scream ripped from Rachel’s throat as she placed the barrel of her colt to the man’s jaw. The gun shot and deafening ringing that followed drowned out her frightened noise and any thoughts running through her head. 

The tank spun as she moved through it. Landing on the ground and staring up at the ceiling, she noticed the bright light above.

_Fucking shit-_

Rachel’s coordination was beyond fucked, and she almost slipped and cracked her head open on the edge of the opened hatch. She hung on for dear life, looking out around the tank to try and assess the situation. Her hearing was coming back as well as her wits when what she was looking at finally registered.

_The God dammed guns._

There they were, sitting pretty as you please on the ground in front of her. Her luck finally had run out. Walkers took notice of her above them and soon begun climbing the tank to reach their meal. She almost didn’t close the hatch in time. 

Sweat left her clothes sticking to her and her curls plastered on her forehead. Rachel looked around at her metal tomb, trying to figure out what next to do. She had never driven a tank, and didn’t know the first steps to even attempt to get the weapon running. It probably didn’t even have any gas in it. Did tanks even run on gas?

The gun she had taken from the solider felt cold in her clammy hands. She checked to see how many rounds were in it and her heart sank a little. She couldn’t just shoot her way out of this. The only thing she was going to be shooting was her own skull. 

Rachel started to curl in on herself. Her breathing had settled as well as her heart when the resignation of what she was left to do blanketed her mind. A drop of sweat fell down her nose and onto the gun. Tears started to fill her eyes. She almost made it. Almost had it. 

_I’m going to die here. I’m going to fucking die in this god damn tank and no one will know. No one will find me. Lawerence won’t know what happened to me. Christ, he could already be dead. And my sweat, sweat baby girl… My sweet Carla. Jesus, please be okay… and if you’re de- if you’re gone, Mommy’s coming-_

“ **Hey you.”**

Rachel slowly tilted her head towards the radio controls. Her eyes widened at the sound of the radio crackling and the female voice coming through.

**“Dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank. Are you cozy in there?”**

Rachel’s Lady Luck seemed to like playing cruel games.

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I would have episode 1 & 2 written before posting because I wanted to bring Darla in on second chapter but damn that Pilot was long


End file.
